I'm glad there's SOMEONE in charge...

...who knows the end from the beginning.

I'm reading a book called "The Last Ghost Dancer" by Tony Bender. I'm not far into it but so far there are some really good excerpts that speak ironic truth. It makes me smile, but in a cocked eyebrow sort of way.

"From above, this big beautiful blue machine appears to float and revolve in blackness and silence, 

but down here, gears clatter and click seemingly in need of grease, and another irritating red stoplight is one car's savior while the station wagon that made the light is obliterated two blocks down the road by a speeding Peterbilt. Meanwhile, oblivious to the divine providence that has saved them, the ones at the red light curse their perceived misfortune.

"So some live, propagate, the family name marches on, and up ahead amidst the smoke, the broken glass, the weeping, the regrets, and flashing red lights, generations vanish unborn.

" I marvel at the way things string together, the way everyday moments bring us crashing together or veering apart. And all the while we are in the passenger seat we believe we are driving."

 I've been thinking about this concept for several weeks now, our limited perspective and seemingly constant frustration at the unplanned interruptions in our lives.

Recently when we were on our way down to Utah County and saw an amazingly destructive accident the thought popped into my head, "Whoa! That looks awful!" I winced at my painful gut clenching reaction. "I feel so bad for whoever was in that accident. I'm sure it wasn't on their list of  'Things to Do' today.""

Where were they going? Was it a routine errand? Was it a birthday party? Baptism? Holiday gathering? In any case this is where they are now. All plans have been completely altered: their plans, the plans of those who love and care for them. Instead of what they were all going to do in the days, weeks, months ahead they'll be...what? Laying in the hospital in a coma? Looking forward to hard work and pain in physical therapy? Making hospital visits? Funeral Home arrangements?

The saying "Life is what happens when you're busy making other plans" is indeed true. I'm not absolutely sure but I'm fairly confident that we wouldn't, on our own, put "Get cancer this year and spend days, weeks, months and possibly years seeing a doctor and going through all kinds of unpleasant treatments and possibly die at the end of it" on our list of things to do. Or "Get pregnant then miscarry at 20 weeks". Or "Have a heart attack on Thanksgiving weekend". We just wouldn't do things like that. The most unpleasant things we'd put on our list voluntarily, without circumstances forcing us too, are: Clean the toilet, muck out the horse stalls, get a colonoscopy (ick)...stuff like that.

I suppose it's a good thing that someone else is in charge who plans for us to deal with really difficult things otherwise we'd be pretty shallow creatures with very clean bathrooms. We may know on some intellectual level that it's important to BE a certain way in difficult circumstances but we wouldn't really know if that is instilled in our character until we are tried. HE knows if it's an integral part of us...but we do not. The experience is for our benefit and knowledge, not His.

Case in point. There is a certain amount of silliness to this but it was a revelation to me at the time.

When I was...a lot...younger, in my late teens, I had some contempt for those who fainted or screamed their head off at the sight of a movie star, or lead singer and I was certain that I would never go Ga-ga over any celebrity. I would never be a gawker and had proved it when I was in grade school and was on a field trip to Palm Springs to a museum and we ran into Red Skelton.

All the other kids were just wacko and crowded around him begging for an autograph. I don't think he was having a very good day anyway and he was...not funny...at all. In fact he was rude and abrupt and gave out the autographs with the impatience of one dealing with the unclean. A teacher had some paper and made sure that all of us kids got an autograph. I was so disenchanted with the whole thing that as the bus pulled away I let my little slip of paper with a famous person's signature flitter away out the bus window with no remorse whatsoever.

"Cured", I thought, "Celebrities do not deserve my adulation just because they're celebrities."

Then, when I was twenty and Steve and I went to Sundance to ski, Lo and Behold who should be riding the lift chair right behind me? Yes, the Sundance Kid himself, in all his rugged handsomeness.

I. Could. Not. Take. My. Eyes. Off. Of. Him. Talk about rubbernecking. Oh my gosh. Steve was embarrassed for me and probably a bit miffed too. I honestly couldn't help myself. It was like a powerful magnetic draw. I'm mortified even now. Then later in the lodge, after I'd taken myself in hand and reprimanded myself firmly knowing that I would never, NEVER do that again, he came in and sat at the end of our long table with some friends and, I'm ashamed to say, it Happened Again.

I know...it wasn't anything earthshaking. Nothing truly horrible happened, not even a stiff neck. But it was a revelation to me. I did not know myself as well as I thought I did.

Since then, as I've experienced different things, from the uncomfortable to the painful, from the scary to the terrifying, I've tried more and more to make the connection between how I react, and how I should react.

"And if men come unto me I will show unto them their weakness. I give unto men weakness that they may be humble; and my grace is sufficient for all men that humble themselves before me; for if they humble themselves before me, and have faith in me, then will I make weak things become strong unto them."

An apt lesson for this time of year as we celebrate the birth of our Savior and the "Good News".

Motherhood

When I was a teen I wasn't the kind of girl who went ga-ga over other peoples babies. I had plenty to do at home with my younger siblings. I'm the second oldest of seven so I was initiated into baby care and cloth diapers very early. I never really liked baby sitting and only did it for the money. I started to worry about what kind of mother I would be in my later teens, thinking I might have something wrong with me. At baby showers for friends I had no problem holding their babies and would often be the only one who could soothe an hysterical one but I wasn't itching to hold them or coo over them. I even thought things like, "My gosh, that's not a very pretty baby. His poor mother, look at those ears!"

Then I married and, in less than ten months, was a mother. My first son was born and it was love at first sight. I was shocked by the overwhelming feeling I had for him. I didn't want anyone to hold him except Steven and me. Even my own mother. He was the most beautiful baby in the whole world and I could marvel at him for hours.

It was like that with each one of them...love, love, love, love at first sight and I never looked back.

It has been a roller-coaster for sure. Caring for my young children, in retrospect, was the easiest. It was physically draining and frustrating to deal with daily messes, meals, cleanup, laundry and tantrums but I could also fix things with a kiss, put them to bed at 8, change the subject with a story, and laugh all through the day at their little discoveries, amazing imagination, and petty grievances. I was also humbled by their instant forgiveness and voracious appetite for learning.

As they grew the problems got bigger and kisses wouldn't make a bit of difference. They wanted to stay up, and out, later and later. Changing the subject was putting off the problem that needed to be faced, and laughing was not my first reaction for many of their new discoveries. I felt fear like I'd never felt it before, frustration, anger, and...yes...even despair, until I discovered for myself the true meaning of the gospel of Jesus Christ and the healing and saving power of His Atonement.

Last night, after coming home from visiting with one daughter, her husband, and their sweet beautiful children, I sat down with my other beloved daughter who has taught me more about unconditional love than anyone was ever able to pound into my poor, hard head. She's broken up with her current boyfriend, is dealing with some health issues that will be hers for a long time and is wondering what's in store for her next. She's amazing, strong, and resilient and has grown into a beautiful young woman with a good head on her shoulders but  I had to tell her some hard things. I had to challenge her to make some difficult choices which would require some rather drastic course corrections. We held hands through the whole quiet discussion, both of us with tears in our eyes.

We had just looked at a bunch of pictures of Swede: her sweet face and shy smile and I told her about Swede's innocent ways, and sense of humor and delicate mannerisms. She just poured over the pictures and cooed and pointed right along with me like a doting Auntie.

I told her, "I'll always be here for you. Always."
She said, "I know you will Mom. I know that."
"You're my Swede," I said, "My baby girl with the sweet face. You and your sister are my babies, my darling girls. That will never change. I will always love you. Nothing will ever change that. I'll never give up. Never. And I'll always pray for you."
"I know that Mom. Thank you. That's why I come to you and tell you everything. That's why."

Is that a payday? I don't look at it like that any more. The joy and pain is so mixed together, so intertwined that one can't exist without the other. They each enhance the other and become 'one' in the experience.

I am no longer the leader...if I ever was. I am a fellow traveler with my children, grandchildren...as well as with my parents and siblings and ancestors. Not here to 'fix'. Not here to 'control'. Not here to 'save'. Here to help, encourage, forgive, counsel with, cry with, and love.

I love, love, love my family.